Losing Grip
by JoChryedLover
Summary: What if Amira hadn't returned to Walford in 2009? What would life have been like for Christian and Syed?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Losing Grip**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: What if Amira had done as Syed asked and had never returned to Walford?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Syed or Christian. All recognizable characters are property of EastEnders and the BBC.**

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><p><em><strong>I've recently been watching the old Chryed clips from the beginning, and this idea just came to me. What would life have been like for Chryed if Amira had never returned to Walford after learning that Syed was broke and leaving him? Still going to include some of the big Chryed moments, but will obviously lack all trace of Amira. All from Syed POV.<strong>_

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><p>June 9 2009<p>

What did I do?!

Why did I tell Amira not to bother coming back? She's the best thing that's ever happened to me! Girls like her, they're not that easy to find. Maybe I was just in it for myself, in it for the money, to begin with, but now...now I sort of loved her.

I mean, I don't think I've ever been in love. Not properly, anyway. I've had girlfriends, sure. And I suppose I may have even loved a couple of them. But being _in love_? I mean, how do you know, anyway? It's not like in the films and stuff; your eyes don't meet across a crowded room and you just _know._ Do you? Amira and I, we had a laugh. I liked spending time with her, making her happy. She made me feel good about myself. But does that mean that I'm in love?

Maybe I was just in love with the _idea_ of her. Maybe the idea that she seemed to want me, when she could have anyone she wanted, was what attracted me to her so much. Not to mention the money...

There was no denying that she was beautiful. Anyone could see that. She was kind, funny, intelligent. A good Muslim girl with good Muslim values. But she'd insulted me, disrespected my family. And although I couldn't exactly blame her, given what I'd done to her, I still couldn't forgive her either. Mum was right. She was a snob.

I checked my watch. It was almost 2. Mum's delivery should be here any minute. Right on cue, the doorbell rings, and as I push myself up from the sofa, I resolve to get over Amira, and move on with my life.

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><p><em><strong>I know this chapter was short, but I really couldn't face writing anymore of Syed pining for Amira!<strong>_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Losing Grip**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: What if Amira had done as Syed asked and had never returned to Walford?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Syed or Christian. All recognizable characters are property of EastEnders and the BBC.**

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><p>June 11 2009<p>

Mum's still reeling from the stunt Parveen and I pulled last night. I thought she'd have seen the funny side by now, but she's still on at me for disrespecting my elders, especially when one of them was a guest in our house. I am glad that Parveen and I parted on good terms, though. She's a nice enough girl, and I'm glad to be her friend, but we're both too similar. We're both determined and headstrong, and a relationship between us could never work.

Amira showed up last night, begging me to take her in. Her dad was in trouble, and she had nowhere else to go. I felt for her, I really did, but after the way she'd treated me, not to mention what she'd said to my mum, my family, I couldn't help her. I'd worked too hard to get my family back, and I wasn't going to let anything come between us again. Although I felt bad for her, I gave her what little money I had and sent her on her way. I was just starting to get over her. The last thing I needed was her back in my life right now.

I'm in the Unit with dad, mum's gone AWOL and we've got a lot to get done. As I head out, I pass Christian on the stairs. I feel my heart start to race, my pulse start to quicken, but it's gone as quickly as it happened. I shrug it off. Probably caused by the stress we're under, seeing as there only seems to be two of us actually doing any work today.

But still, I can't help the niggling at the back of my d.

_Something's changing._

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><p><strong><em>Sorry for the little chapters, but they should start to get longer from Chapter 3 onwards!<em>**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Losing Grip**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: What if Amira had done as Syed asked and had never returned to Walford?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Syed or Christian. All recognizable characters are property of EastEnders and the BBC.**

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><p>June 12 2009<p>

Mum's still on my case over the whe Amira thing, even though I've told her where to go. She just can't seem to let go of all the awful things Amira said about her, about the whole family. And to be honest, I can't really blame her. She's too proud for her own good, and to have someone call her out on her flaws isn't something she can forget so easily, no matter how many times we tell her that we love her despite those flaws.

Amira must be stayung nearby; she's been hounding me all morning, trying to get me to talk to her. To forgive her. But I'm over it now. If she didn't want me when she had it all, why should I go out on a lb for her now that she has nothing? I do feel for her, but she's not my problem anymore.

Dad and I have been snowed under at the Unit this morning again; mum's gone AWOL again, and Christian just turns up when he likes. I was almost tempted to find Amira and offer her a job, just to help us out, but I thought better of it. Mum would flip if she knew Amria'd been anywhere near the place.

Mum walks in just as I'm about to head off and get some lunch, followed closely by Christian. We exchange plesantries as we pass each other in the doorway, and as our arms brush, I feel my heart start to quicken again, just like it did last night.

_Something's changing..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Losing Grip**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: What if Amira had done as Syed asked and had never returned to Walford?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Syed or Christian. All recognizable characters are property of EastEnders and the BBC.**

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><p>June 16 2009<p>

We've all been working flat out at the Unit for the past couple of days. This big event, catering for Bushra, might be the big break we've been waiting for, but I just hope it doesn't break _us_ first! It's mainly been me and dad, if I'm honest. Mum's been barking orders at us from morning til night, taking more of a supervisory stance, only mucking in with us when absolutely necessary, or when she feels we've been doing it all wrong. Tam's not been allowed anywhere near the place, with mum insisting that his school work is more important. Jane and Ian are still up in Scotland, and although Christian's been mucking in where he can, he's still snowed under with the restoration of the cafe, not to mention having two teenagers to keep an eye on.

But, whenever Christian has been working at the Unit, I've felt this sense of calm falling over the place, and even mum's constant tirade of orders hasn't been getting me down. Christian and I seem to have a well rehearsed routine, both of us seeming to know what needs to be done by the other without any conversation passing our lips. The atmosphere is soothing almost; we both seem comfortable in one another's company, hardly needing to speak to one another, both comfortable in the silence which lingers comfortably between us.

It's after 11, and I'm the only one still working. Dad's off to bed, with his postal round starting early in the morning. I've sent mum home too, telling her I've got everything in hand, and that everything will be ready for tomorrow. But of course, I don't have everything in hand, because there's no way we realistically had enough time for this order to begin with, as short staffed as we are. I was even on the verge of suggesting to mum that we ask Bushra to postpone for another day or so, but I know how that conversation would go. It's important to mum to show Bushra just what the Masood family is capable of, and I'm determined not to let her down.

I double check the order list for tomorrow, making sure I haven't missed anything out. The additional vegetarian dishes are done, as is the last minute addition of a wheat intolerant meal. The curries are cooked, the starters are prepped, and everything _finally_ seems to be in hand. I check my watch. Almost midnight. And there's a ton of washing up to be done before anything more can be done in the morning. I glance back at my phone, which I've been toying with for the last hour. My finger had been hovering over the "call" button next to Christian's number for the last hour. I was desperate for some help, some company, even, and he was the only one I could think of to call at this time of the night, but part of me is relieved that I hadn't summoned up the courage to call him. Not because I'm too stubborn to ask for help, but because I'm scared of what could have happened if I had asked him. I know he'd probably have come if I'd asked him to; even Christian doesn't go clubbing on a Monday night, and I know he would have helped me get the order finished, and that the mound of washing in front of me would be done by now. But I was scared of him saying yes and coming to my aid. Because something _is_ changing, I can feel it. And the last time I let something like this happen, the guilt I felt almost tore me apart**. **


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